“Where is that ring, boy?” asked Proteus.
“Here it is—this is it.”
“How? Let me see. Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.”
“Oh, cry you mercy, sir, I have made a mistake,” said Julia, pretending to discover her error, and holding out another one. “This is the ring you sent to Silvia.”
“But how did you come by this ring?” asked Proteus, looking at the first one. “When I left Verona I gave this to Julia.”
“And Julia herself gave it to me, and Julia herself has brought it here.”
“How? Julia!”
“Behold her to whom you swore so many vows, and who kept them tenderly in her heart! How often have you perjured yourself!” cried Julia, throwing off her disguise. “Oh, Proteus, let these clothes make you blush! Are you ashamed that I have put on the raiment of a boy? I tell you, it is less shameful for women to change their guise than men their minds!”
“Than men their minds!” echoed the conscience-stricken Proteus. “That is true.”
“Come, come, give me each your hand,” interposed Valentine. “Let me be blest in making a happy ending. It were pity that two such friends should be long foes.”